


7 Universes We Did Not Live In

by xxsupernaturalgalxx



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Beauty - Freeform, Bound, Challenge: Tag Frenzy, F/M, Haven, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Prince!Gendry, abandon, calm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-04
Updated: 2013-08-16
Packaged: 2017-12-22 09:56:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/911862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxsupernaturalgalxx/pseuds/xxsupernaturalgalxx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>7 Drabbles for Arya and Gendry Week, following various themes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day One: Frenzy

**Author's Note:**

> Day One: Frenzy (noun, verb)  
> 1.extreme mental agitation; wild excitement or derangement.  
> 2.a fit or spell of violent mental excitement; a paroxysm characteristic of or resulting from a man  
> 3.to drive to frenzy, or make frantic

The floors of the Great Septs of Baleor are painted crimson, marking the end of King Joffery's tyranny. Chaos ensues outside the religious ground, Northmen brandishing the Gold Cloaks with steal. She doesn`t hear the screams, doesn`t see the lifeless bodies scattered around her, doesn`t feel anything but the pure hatred, directed towards the greasy slime ball that took her father`s head when she was a mere child of nine.

The pathway between the King and herself is clear, the Northmen have already broken through the Royal defences, leaving the boy-king unscathed. They know this is her kill. He looks helpless, when he looks at her. Scared, like the craven he is. 

She doesn`t hesitate when she jumps him, doesn`t hesitate when she pierces the dagger through his flesh. She thought it would bring her joy to hear his screams, to see the blood spill from his body until he is pale and still. But she doesn`t feel happy, she doesn`t feel sad, she just feels rage as she continues stabbing him over and over again.

She doesn`t realise she is screaming, she doesn`t realise there are tears spilling down her cheeks. She doesn`t even realise when he finally stops struggling and looks up at her unseeing, with pale, empty, green eyes. All she can think about is his evil smirk when he ordered her sister to be beaten, the glint in his eyes when he ordered for her father`s death. He didn`t even have the courage to do it himself, the coward. He who passes the sentence should swing the sword.

"This is for Sansa" she screams, as she plunges the dagger back in his non-beating heart. "For Robb!" *stab* "For my mother!" *stab* "For Micah!" *stab* "For Lady!" *stab* "For the North!" *stab* "For father!" *stab, stab, stab* 

There are multiple stab wounds in him, when _he_ finally pulls her off him. She`s still fighting, still trying to stab her dagger in his heart even after he pulls her away. He carries her away from Joffery, away from the fighting, away from everything while her crushing her petite body to his. He`s holding her firmly in place, but the touch is soft- soothing. It is as if he is shielding her away from the cruelty of it all, from the madness that temporarily took over. Arya sobs into his chest and he gently strokes her back, comforting her.

Hours go by, and darkness has fallen, but he is still there, holding onto her, comforting her. He`s always been there for her, never abandoning her side even past all the fury and the madness. It then occurs to her that he is here to stay, her stupid bull-headed boy. He is her balance, he is her shield, but most importantly, he is her _Gendry._


	2. Day Two: Abandon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Abandon (verb)  
> 1.to leave completely and finally; forsake utterly; desert  
> 2.to give up; discontinue; withdraw from  
> 3.to give up the control of  
> 4.to yield (oneself) without restraint or moderation; give (oneself) over to natural impulses, usually without self-control  
> 5.Low: to cast away, leave, or desert, as property or a child

She was used to being alone, used to having nothing. She had been alone most of her life, forced away from her family and loved ones when she was a mere child. But then _he_ came back in the picture, came back into her life. At first she wanted nothing to do with him, attempting to cast away the boy who abandoned her all those years ago. 

He is taller now, more muscular, and dark hair covers his chin. He looks different now, no longer a boy but a man grown. She thinks he has changed, but the blue eyes under the heavy black hair carry the stubborn look she remembers. She tries pushing him away, tries telling him she doesn't want him here, but he doesn't budge and vows to never leave her side, promising that this time he won't abandon her. It is then that she decides to take him back, to open her heart to him once more. She has forced herself not to care for anyone for so long. Emotions were a nuisance, a weakness; everything she has ever loved and cared about has been cruelly taken away from her. She doesn't want to care for him, but she can't help it, much like she can't drop part of her arm.

She reaches up on her tiptoes then, and allows herself to press her lips against his. The kiss is nothing but gentle, all tongues and teeth. She wraps her hands around his neck, and he brings his arms around her waist, holding her tightly as he marks her with a dapple of blue and black bruises she will find tomorrow morning. She marks him too, breaking their kiss only to press her lips against his neck, as she sucks with fervor. He guides her to the tent and begins to undress her, practically tearing her clothes off in haste. He makes love to her then, in the same passionate fervor as their kiss. Arya cries out his name when he makes her peak. A sharp pinch, and he's inside her. He tries to go slow, tries to make it less painful for her, but she is thrusting her hips frantically against his, so he follows her lead. She needs this, needs to feel, and it isn't until he brings her over the edge - bringing her to her climax - until she realises that she loves him. The thought scares her, but when Gendry finally whispers the same words in her ears, the fear dissipates. She allows herself to be happy then, allows herself to be with Gendry.

She knew it was a mistake, to love him. And in a few short months she is proven right.

The blade pierces his chest easily, slicing through the flesh like it was no more than a slab of butter. She kills the man then, sheathing her dagger in his stomach. She is too late though, because no matter how many time she stabs the outlaw, Gendry still lays broken in front of her.

She tries to stop the bleeding, piling cloth upon cloth on the wound. Her actions prove to be futile, and she can't do anything but stare as the blood seeps through the bandages and stain her fingers in the sticky, crimson substance. 

He looks terrible. His face is pale and his body is covered in a thin sheen of sweat. She stares at him helplessly as she watches the light slowly fade from his eyes. They droop then, threatening to shut forever. 

"Stop!" Arya cries, "you promised. You promised you wouldn't leave," she accuses.

Gendry's eyes flash open then, and he looks at her with remorse. "I'm sorry m'lady" he states, and it pains Arya to hear how raspy and weak his voice sounds. 

She wraps her arms around him, holding him to her while never breaking eye contact. It takes her a while to realise that he's stopped breathing, that he looks down at her with unseeing eyes. It is then when she breaks her eye contact only to sob into his chest. 

She hates herself for loving him again, hates herself for allowing him to come back into her life. She lies in a crumbled heap on the forest floor, abandoned once more.


	3. Day Three: Bound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya always likes to be in control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bound (verb, adj.)  
> 1.simple past tense and past participle of bind  
> 2.tied, in bounds  
> 3.made fast as if by a band of bong  
> 4.secured within a cover, as a book  
> 5.under a legal or moral obligation  
> 6.destined, sure, certain  
> 7.to leap in a running fashion
> 
> **Warning: This chapter contains explicit sexual content**

"What are you doing?" Gendry asks, as Arya finishes tying the last of his bindings.

He looks up at the petite girl on top of him. Her grey eyes sparkle mischievously as she bites on her lower lip, already red and swollen from their kissing. "I just want to try something," she states, in that not so innocent voice of hers.

She looks so beautiful, with her hair tasselled from the night before, while she wears nothing but _his_ loose cotton shirt. But as much as he loves seeing her in his clothes, he would prefer that she was bare, leaving nothing to the imagination. He wants to pull her down for a kiss and pleasure her until she screams his name. He struggles against the bindings, desperately trying to free his arms. It is no use, he is bound in place at the desperate mercy of the girl who smiles devilishly at him. 

She begins to unbutton her shirt slowly- like torturously slowly. If only his arms were free he could rip the buttons off her, but she only _tuts_ when he continues to struggle against his bindings. It seems as if hours have passed before she _finally_ unclasps the last button, pushing the shirt off her body.

She isn`t wearing anything underneath, and Gendry feels himself straining against his briefs, which now feel two sizes too small. Her soft pink nipples are just aching to be touched and he groans when he sees the love bite on her bottom left breast, which he gave her last night. 

She begins touching herself then, pinching and pulling at the pink peaks. Gendry groans, and his hips involuntary thrust forward, rubbing himself against her bare pussy. Arya lets out a soft gasp, before finally composing herself and shifting her position, so neither of them can get the friction they both desperately need. Instead, she starts playing with her clit, rubbing the small nub in a circular pattern with her two fingers. Her other hand stays at her breast, kneading and squeezing as she moans with pleasure. He watches as she pleasures herself and he almost comes undone when he sees her slip her fingers inside her cunt- pumping and wiggling. 

"Arya" he moans, desperately begging for a release. 

She complies then, more easily than he would have expected. She tugs on his underwear, bringing the fabric down to his ankles. Gendry sighs in relief when his cock is finally freed, bouncing up to greet his lover. The tip glistens with his pre-cum, much to the fault of the tiny girl dominating him.

She kisses his ankle, moving up in a torturously slow rhythm. Gendry lets out a moan when he feels her lips lingering on his inner thigh, so close to the place he desperately aches her lips to move too. He groans out in frustration when she moves to kiss up his other leg, her hand purposely brushing his balls just to frustrate him further. 

She continues to press kisses on his body, her lips pressing against every inch of exposed flesh except for the place where he needs her the most. She settles her lips on his collar bone, harshly sucking and biting. Gendry hisses in pain, but lets out a sigh of pleasure as she soothes the tender area with her tongue.

"Arya" he chants again, struggling against his bindings more than ever. The rope digs into his flesh, and his wrists will be sore tomorrow, but right now he ignores the pain, only focuses on fulfilling his most primal need. 

"Not yet." Arya whispers before she nibbles on his ear. He murmurs out pleas, begging her to give him the release he desperately needs, but when she continues to torture him the pleas turn into curses. 

All of a sudden he feels a harsh pain on his head, and his eyes snap open. Arya tugs harshly at his hair, as she moves to straddle his face. She is a mere inches away from his parched lips when he sees her pink cunt spread before him. He gulps when he sees how deliciously wet she is for him. He has no more than a few moments to eye the pretty picture laid out in front of him, before she tugs his hair back and grinds herself on his mouth.

He tongues her in earnest, savouring the moans she makes for him. He circles her swollen little nub, before he parts her folds, licking every bit of her. He drinks her juices like a man who has been deprived from water, tonguing her until he feels her fingers grasp his hair tighter, signalling her approaching orgasms. He moves his lips to her clit then, sucking harshly. Her moans get louder and she spasms, releasing into his mouth. 

He continues licking her, relishing her little aftershocks of pleasure. She comes down from her high, sated, yet Gendry is left more tortured than ever. "Arya" he begs, "please."

On shaky legs, she moves away from his face. She looks down at him, her grey eyes clouded with a mixture of lust and love. Arya nods her head, but makes no move to untie his bindings. Instead, she moves down his body, pressing kisses down his chest. When she reaches his cock she doesn't tease him this time, and wraps a firm hand around him as she runs her tongue on his tip, licking the pre-cum off. 

Gendry groans again, and he aches to thread his fingers in her hair, but do to his restriction, he has to settle for thrusting his hips impatiently against her. She strokes him with practiced hands, and her mouth moves to his balls. She tentatively licks each one before bringing each into her mouth and sucks.

With her practiced strokes and her lips on his balls, he begins to feel his upcoming orgasm. "Arya..." he pants, "I'm-" but he lets out his sentence with a groan when he feels her stop and move away from him.

"Fuck, Ar" he curses, left un-sated yet again. His frustration doesn't last long, when he sees her straddle his lap, pushing the tip of his aching arousal into her entrance. She slowly sinks on him then, moaning as she tries to take all of him inside her. 

Before she has the chance to move away again, Gendry wildly thrusts his hips against her, desperately seeking the release that has evaded him for so long. She lets out a strained gasp at the new speed, and her breasts bounce up and down as he fucks her. 

"Oh Gen- Gendry" she moans, as she grabs her breasts, squeezing as she rides him. She increases her pace to match his, and he hears the loud, frequent slap of their skins smacking together as they fuck. "Gendry- Gendry!" She screams, until her eyes roll back and her walls squeeze his cock.

"Arya" he moans out, as he comes with her. His seed fills her as they ride out the last remnants of their pleasure.   
She collapses on top of him and they both pant, trying to catch their breaths. He is still soft inside her, but Arya makes no move to shift their positions, her body content and exhausted.

"Next time" Gendry states before pressing a quick kiss to her cheek, "I'll be the one tying you up."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, so I'm sorry that I'm behind in arya x gendry week. I wasn't able to prepare for it as I wanted to finish writing chapter 8 of the white walkers first. Writing Haven after this, and I'm already half done writing beauty, so perhaps I'll be able to catch up.


	4. Day Four: Haven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His apartment was the only place where she wasn't a Stark. His apartment was the only place where she could be just Arya.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haven (noun, verb)  
> 1.a harbor or poet  
> 2.any place of shelter and safety, refuse; asylum

A curse slips from her lips, as she yet again stumbles on her heels. Her mother shoots her a warning glance, and Arya struggles to bite her tongue. She's been forced into a dress that she can barely breathe in, heels that she can't walk in, and her hair is done up tightly- the pins digging into her scalp.

She can't do this anymore, she can't be all prim and proper. When will her mother realise that she is not Sansa. Despite her high birth, Arya has no desire of being a lady. No, she'd rather wear her favourite pair of Docs and be out playing sports with her brothers. It isn't fair, did a small thing like her sex really turn her away from the life she wants to live? Had she been born a man, she needn't worry about dressing in fancy gowns and sipping tea with other ladies. Better yet, could she have not been born a bastard? Jon was always excluded from social events, and for the first time Arya truly envies her favourite brother. 

The next lesson is proper dinner etiquette, and Arya prays to the Lord to just take her now. Somehow her prayers are answered, when Jeyne Poole accidently stumbles into a table, knocking all the fine china and silverware off the table.

Her mother, along with everyone else rushes to help the fallen girl, ordering the staff to clean up the mess as they work on salvaging the dress, the clumsy girl ruined. 

Arya doesn't even think twice when she discards her heels and runs out the door. Her mother will be furious when she finds that she ran away from the preparation débutante classes, but at the moment, Arya could care less. Her mother will have no idea where to find her, and she'll resolve to deal with her punishment at a later time. 

She runs to his place, and ignores the pain as the gravel digs into her bare feet. The road is all too familiar for her, she always comes here to get away from it all.

Arya bangs on the door, praying that he isn't at work today. It takes a few moments for him to answer, but when he does, he merely swings the door open, not even surprised at her arrival. She does this too often for him to question it, his home is her escape away from the real world- her haven.

She runs to the his room, and rummages through the cabinet where he keeps all her stuff. In moments she is back in the living room, her face free of makeup, her hair tied in a braid, and her dress is replaced with her street clothes. As she settles into the couch, Gendry wordlessly hands her Docs, and he sets up the video games as she puts on her shoes.

They play for hours, until all the aggravation is dispelled from her body. The débutante is almost out of her mind, until Gendry brings it up. "What was it this time?" he asks, his eyes still glued to the screen.

"A débutante" Arya answers, as she mashes the buttons on her controller. Her actions are futile, as Gendry knocks her Link into oblivion, winning yet another game of Super Smash Brothers. 

"Another game?" Arya asks, and Gendry silently nods, allowing her to pick their next battleground.

"What's that?" Gendry asks.

"What's what?" She questions, breaking her eyes from the screen.

"A deve-ton?" He stutters.

" Débutante," Arya corrects before she shrugs, "da fuck do I know. Just another stupid reason to wear dresses and make my life a living hell."

Gendry bursts out into a fit of laughter, and Arya is smiling despite the fact she is yelling at him to shut-up.

"It's getting late," Gendry announces, his eyes somberly finding her own. 

Arya lets out a sigh of disappoint when she looks out the window, and watches the sun, as it is about to set. She had been gone since noon, her mother is sure to be furious with her.

"Another game?" Gendry asks, as he catches her sad stare.

Arya looks up at him then, loving that Gendry always knows how she is feeling. "Yes," Arya says, a small smile forming on her lips, "another game."


	5. Day Five: Beauty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based off the prompt from my One Sentence Fics short, under the category romance. 
> 
> "Arya Stark was the only woman who went to the tournament to watch the battle, all the other ladies were gushing over the chance to be crowned Queen of love and beauty; they're all stupid Arya thought but, when the knight with the coal black hair and the piericng blue eyes placed the crown on her lap Arya thought, maybe just maybe they weren't so stupid after all."
> 
> Some people asked me to expand on this idea and turn it into a fic, so here we go.

She hates being a lady. 

Arya Stark stares at the knights enviously as she watches them prepare for the tournament. She desperately wishes she could join them, clad herself in armour while clashing steel against her opponent. She knows she is good enough, her lessons with Syrio have shaped her into a great water dancer. She bets she can make all of these knights bend their knee to her, but instead she is forced to sit in the stands, wearing a Southern dress and a corset, which she can barely breath in. 

She sits beside Sansa and Jeyne Poole, rolling her eyes when the two girls gush over the chance of being crowned the Queen of Love and Beauty. Jeyne assures Sansa she is sure to be crowned, no matter who wins, but only Arya notices the jealousy and resentment in the steward daughter's eyes. She doesn't blame Sansa for talking about something so stupid, after all it was the only thing the ladies of court were talking about today. How they wished some handsome knight would place the crown of blue winter roses upon their head. 

_They're all stupid,_ Arya thinks. She is sure, she is the only women who attended the tourney to see the fight. Besides who would crown her anyways? She was just Arya Underfoot, the gangly girl who acts like a boy and has the face of a horse.

The tourney is magnificent, and though Arya was a little bitter about not being allowed to participate, she is glad that she is at least able to watch it. She cheers with the crowd when Ser Loras disarms the Mountain, and spies her father giving her a reproachful glance when she begins to act too rowdy.

Arya slumps back in her chair, when she hears Sansa whispering to her right. "Wouldn't it be magnificent if Ser Loras wins?" Sansa gushes, "he's so handsome. I hope he crowns me the Queen of Love and Beauty, and then maybe after we could get married, and I can have his babies."

Arya resists the urge to gag when she hears the baby part. Only Sansa could turn an amazing victory into something so stupid, like making babies with Loras Tyrell.

"What if the Prince wins?" Jeyne Poole asks, "then he can crown you the Queen of Love and Beauty, and Queen of the Seven Kingdoms!" The girl squeals.

"He`s so handsome!" Sansa swoons, "I would love to be his Queen, and give him little princes and princesses."

"I for one, would love to see someone pummel the shit out of Joffery," Arya interrupts. A smirk forms on her lips when she imagines someone pummeling the shit out of the little prick.

"Arya!" Sansa scolds, "you cannot talk about Prince Joffery like that." 

"Besides," Jeyne continues, "we weren`t talking about Prince Joffery, stupid. We were talking about Prince Gendry."

Arya furrows her eyebrows. _Who the hell was Prince Gendry?_ "I thought Robert only had two sons, Joffery and Tommen," she states. Those were the only two princes she recalls meeting, and she definitely doesn't remember a Gendry. Arya thinks she would remember a name that sounds as stupid as Gendry. 

"Honestly Arya, how do you not even know who your future King is?" Sansa asks, scandalized. 

"He wasn't here to great us when we came from the North" Jeyne explains, "but if you ever bothered to show up at court, you would have seen him by now."

"Oh Arya, he's so handsome," Sansa gushes. "He looks just like Lord Renly, but more well-built. 

"It's not like it should matter to her" Jeyne announces, "you wouldn't see Prince Gendry naming Arya Underfoot, Queen of Love and Beauty anytime soon."

Arya growls, and her hands clench into fists. She is about to lean over Sansa and slug Jeyne in the arm, but she feels a tap on her shoulder and turns to look behind her. "Who do you think is going to win, my lady?" It's the Imp, Arya realises.

She's always liked Tyrion. She was quick to make friends with the youngest Lannister, when he made jokes at Joffery's expense. "I don't know," Arya admits. "Maybe Loras Tyrell, he has to be good if he took down the Mountain."

"Ahhhh yes, Ser Loras. A fine knight, though I wouldn't be one to count my nephew out of the running, just quite yet." 

It takes Arya a moment before she realises he is talking about the mysterious Prince Gendry. "Which one is he?" Arya asks. 

Unlike Sansa and Jeyne, Tyrion does not look scandalized after she admits she does not know who the prince is. "He is fighting next, my lady." She sees him point to the man holding a war hammer. She cannot see his face, for it is obstructed by what appears to be a bull's head, helmet. 

She stares in awe, as the prince makes quick work of his opponent. There is no grace behind his hits, no skill, but brute strength that makes his opponent fall down to his mercy. Arya snorts, much to the displeasure of the two girls beside her. He is fighting all wrong, standing face to face with his opponent. He's big enough as it is, he's only making a bigger target on himself if he doesn't stand sideways. Though when she sees the losers heading to the infirmary, moaning in pain, Arya has to admit that it would only take Prince Gendry one hit to bring her down.

In the end, it is the Prince versus Loras Tyrell. Many people cheer on the future prince of the Seven Kingdoms, but Arya doesn't. It is only Gendry's strength that has brought him here this far, but Ser Loras carries the grace that Gendry can never dream of having. Sure he is strong, but he isn't likely to bring down the knight from Highgarden if he cannot get a single hit in. She says as much to Tyrion, who in turn places a bet - one silver stag on the winner. 

The match starts, and Gendry ungracefully swings his hammer, missing Loras by a few inches. She hears a loud swish in the air, as the hammer swings but does not land on his target. Loras ducks out of the way and sends his sword to slash Gendry from the back. She thinks it is over then, she thinks Loras has won, but to her surprise the prince recovers and blocks his hammer with Loras' sword. Ser Loras' sword almost goes flying out of his hands, and Arya is sure that if his sword was made out of cheaper metal, it would have shattered by now. Loras recovers quickly, and resumes his stance, awaiting Gendry's next move. 

She hears Tyrion cheering in the background, much to her annoyance, but doesn't count Ser Loras out of the running just yet. Gendry just got lucky, Arya thinks, but the match doesn't seem to be going all that well for Loras Tyrell.

The fight seems to go on for hours, neither man yielding. Sometimes it is difficult for Loras to evade Gendry's blows, and has no choice but to block with his sword. Loras always tuckers out from those blocks, and she can tell the Knight of Flowers is exhausted. The Prince however is a different story. He is clad in heavy armor, wielding a hammer that probably weighs more than she does, but he still does not show any signs of exhaustion. In the end, Loras doesn't have the strength to block his final blow. The hammer swings into his shoulder and lands with a powerful crunch.

To his credit, Loras doesn't scream in pain like the other knights, but merely grits his teeth as he yields. The crowd breaks into cheers and she sees the two competitors embracing, and Gendry whispers something in Loras' ear that makes the knight grin.

He takes off his helm then, and Arya can feel her jaw drop to the floor. Beneath the helm, she spies shaggy black hair, thick and as dark as coal. He sends a hand to brush the bangs away from his face, to reveal a pair of sparking eyes as blue as sapphires. There is a queasy feeling in her stomach that Arya can't explain, and suddenly she feels hot. She can feel the beads of sweat pooling on her forehead, and she feels her stomach performing somersaults. Oddly it is a pleasant feeling, and she finds herself staring at the Prince a little longer than she would have liked.

The fat King names him victor, and the prince clasps his hands with his parents and her father. He is handed a crown of winter roses, and a gasp runs through the crowd. The ladies chattering excitedly as the prince holds the crown in his hands but, drop silent when he approaches the crowd. 

She watches the prince walk past a group of ladies, the women making choking noises as he passes them without a second look back. Margaery Tyrell looks prim and proper, sitting in the crowd, wearing a stunning emerald dress. Besides for Sansa, she is the most beautiful woman there, but Gendry passes her as well, and she sees the Tyrell girl's face drop.

He approaches their stand then. Jeyne squeals excitedly as she grasps onto Sansa's arm but her sister ignores her. She is sitting gracefully as she eyes the Prince, a pretty smile plastered on her flawless lips.

Arya turns to pick her nails, before turning around to face Tyrion. She hands the Imp a silver stag from losing the little bet they made on the victor. Tyrion smirks, and she is about to tell the Lannister that he shouldn't act so smug, until she realises he is looking at the scene behind her.

Arya hears the gasp that runs through the crowd before she realises what is happening. She turns to look at Sansa, expecting to see her face match the colour of her hair as the prince lays the crown upon her lap, but instead she looks devastated while Jeyne Poole shoots her a look of disbelief and resentment. It is then when she feels something light being placed on her lap, and she turns to find a pair of blue eyes staring at her.

It takes her a total of ten seconds to realise what just happened. Gendry takes her hand then, and Arya almost melts when she feels his callused hands rubbing her soft skin. He places a delicate kiss on her hand then, before turning around and walking away.

Arya Stark was the only woman who went to the tournament to watch the battle, all the other ladies were gushing over the chance to be crowned Queen of love and beauty. They're all stupid, Arya thought but, when the knight with the coal black hair and the piercing blue eyes placed the crown on her lap Arya thought, maybe - just maybe - they weren't so stupid after all.

~

That evening, Arya is forced into another dress. It's a Northern one at least, a sapphire blue colour that hugs her figure- she doesn't question the coincidence. Arya frowns at how low her neckline is, and tries to pull the fabric up to hide her breasts, but her handmaiden slap her hands away, telling her the dress is meant to cut that low. 

She argues with her maid when she begins to style her hair in a Southern fashion. "I'm wearing a dress from Winterfell, why would I have a Northern Dress and Southern hair?" She protests. 

"My lady, you are in the South. It is customary that we place you in something Southern, least you offend your hosts," the maid insists.

Arya is about to say she doesn't give a fuck about her hosts, but Sansa enters the room. "It's okay," Sansa states to the maid ever so politely, "I shall do my sisters hair."

The maid leaves the two sisters with a curtsey, before quickly dashing out of the room. She seems relieved to be free of Arya, and Arya thinks the feeling is mutual. 

Sansa takes Arya's hair with practiced fingers, and begins gently braiding her hair. "I'm sorry," Arya whispers, "you should been crowned Queen of love and beauty. The Prince is obviously blind or stupid if he choose me over you."

Sansa smiles, as she ties her hair, letting the braid hang off the side. She then grabs the crown of winter roses and places it gently upon her head. "Honestly Arya, you need to stop listening to Jeyne Poole. I was a bit disappointed when Gendry didn't crown me, but I certainly wasn't surprised. If you dressed like a lady more often, you would realize how pretty you actually are. I mean look in the mirror, Arya. You look beautiful."

Arya does look in the mirror. She is shoved in an expensive dress, there is kohl on her eyes, and her lips are painted bright red. She doesn`t think she looks beautiful, she thinks she looks stupid. "I don`t want to be a lady," she admits, "I wish I was born a boy so I could have kicked the stupid Prince`s ass in the tournament and named you Queen of love and beauty."

"Now I don`t believe that for a second," Sansa states, as she turns away from Arya to dab some powder on her nose. "I saw you blushing when the prince placed the flowers on your lap and kissed your hand."

"I did not!" Arya protests, her face turning red from embarrassment. 

"Honestly Arya, you`re turning red right now," Sansa giggles.

Arya huffs, and leaves the room, cursing when she slips on her silk slippers. Sansa continues to giggle as she follows her out, walking much more gracefully than her.   
~

They walk into the Great Hall together, clasped arm in arm. Sansa looks around the hall in awe when she sees the room decorated with black and gold, in celebration of Prince Gendry Baratheon`s victory. 

Margaery Tyrell steals Sansa away from Arya then, the two girls chatting excitedly as the find a place at the vast table. Arya scans the hall for someone she knows. She spies her father sitting on the first seat by the head of the table, right opposite Queen Ceresi. Robert is chatting his ear off, and Arya frowns. She won`t be allowed to sit there, and even Jory is standing behind her father so she crosses him off as an option as well.

She spies Tyrion and Jamie Lannister then, and Arya makes her way towards the two brothers. She enjoys both their company; Jamie never holds back any of his crude comments around her, and has already told her a couple of jokes she cannot share with her father or Sansa, and Tyrion always slips her a glass of wine when her father isn`t looking.

"My lady," Jamie greets, as she takes a seat beside him. Neither he or Tyrion stand nor pull out her chair as she sits, treating her like a fellow friend rather than a delicate woman. "Had I known those teats were hiding behind your usual tunic, I would have thought twice about joining the Kingsguard," Jamie continues, chuckling. Arya laughs along with him, knowing his joke is all in good jest when he looks in her eyes, unlike some of the other men at the table. 

"Would you have still joined?" Arya asks, indulging their little game.

"Perhaps in 20 years," Jamie shrugs, "when those teats aren`t lovely anymore."

Arya sends a fist to his shoulder, as he and Tyrion guffaw at her expense. Arya can`t help but laugh with him, as she pummels him.

"Here, my lady," Tyrion states as he hands her a goblet of wine. "I believe a toast is needed for the Queen of love and beauty."

Arya blushes, before clinking glasses with Jamie and Tyrion. She lifts the goblet to her lips, but is interrupted before she can take a sip.

"Uncles," she hears a deeps voice greet. She turns to see Prince Gendry standing behind Jamie and Tyrion, clasping their shoulders as he asks them if they are enjoying themselves. The men enjoy some pleasantries and laugh before Gendry turns away from them to address her.

"My lady," Gendry addresses as he turns to look at her. His eyes do not leave hers, as he bends to kiss her hand again. "Would you care to join me at the head of the table?" he asks. Arya is stunned, and doesn`t say anything as she loses herself in his dark blue eyes.

"She`d love too," Tyrion interrupts, and Jamie sends her an encouraging smile. 

She holds onto Gendry`s hand when he leads her away from the table. There is an empty seat between her father and Prince Joffery, obviously reserved for Gendry. "Move over," Gendry orders, and Arya bites back a smile when she sees the scandalized look on Joffery`s face.

"You heard the boy," the King`s voice booms. "Move your skinny ass over."

Joffery`s face turns a pretty shade of crimson, his pale green eyes glaring at Arya as he moves to the opposite side of the table, sitting with his mother who also looks at Arya cruelly with a pair of matching green eyes. 

She thinks Gendry meant to clear that seat for her, but is surprised when he places her beside her father, while he takes Joffery`s former seat.

"You look beautiful," her father whispers, "just like your Aunt Lyanna." He states with a sad smile.

Arya's heard many stories about Lyanna, the woman who Robert started a war over. She looks down at her hands, and spies the dirt under her fingernails, her arms filled with scabs and scratches. No, Arya thinks, I am nothing like Lyanna. But then she notices Gendry's gaze in her direction, and he looks at her in a way that perturbs her. He doesn't look at her like she's an ugly little duckling, nor does he eye her with lust. The look he gives her is filled with pure admiration, and she briefly wonders how a boy that she has known for less than a day can look at her the same way that her father and Jon does.

It was said that Robert fell in love with Lyanna when he first saw her. Arya had never believed that before, thinking the man was incapable of any feelings towards a woman other than lust. But then she wonders if Robert ever looked at Lyanna the same way Gendry is looking at her now. And more importantly, Arya wonders if Gendry will ever turn into his father. 

~

"Why did you name me Queen of love and beauty?" Arya asks one day.

Ever since the tournament, she and Gendry have been seeing each other quite often. He certainly isn't what she had initially expected from the future King, expecting him to be pretentious and uncaring like most highborns. _But Gendry was different._ He is kind and soft spoken, and Arya has learned to enjoy his company.

"Why wouldn't I?" Gendry asks with another question, raising his eyebrow at her challengingly.

Though she thinks quite highly of Gendry, he can also piss her off quite easily. Some days he can be as stupid as a bull and as stubborn as a mule. "Don't be stupid and answer the question," Arya snaps, her patience growing thin with him.

Gendry gives her a strange look before shaking his head. "You know, you really shouldn't insult people who are bigger than you."

"Then I wouldn't get to insult anybody," Arya retorts. Gendry snorts at her rebuttal, but Arya isn't one to lose focus so easily. "You know, you still haven't answered my question," she states more softly, biting on her lip as she looks up to Gendry.

A million emotions flicker through his face before his expression softens. He tentatively reaches up to brush a stray lock from her face, and tucks it behind her ear. "Because you're beautiful," he admits, not breaking eye contact.

Arya gulps then, "no" she states with conviction. "Maragery Tyrell is pretty, Sansa is pretty, but I'm not."

"I think you're pretty," Gendry admits.

"No." Arya yells, suddenly growing furious with him. "You like it when they stuff me in a dress, and push up my breasts with an awful corset. There's so much makeup on   
my face that you can't even see the real me. So don't tell me that-"

"The first day I saw you, was after one of your sword fighting lessons." Gendry interrupts.

Arya freezes mid-sentence. Her breath hitches as she strains to hear every word he says.

"You came running into the Red Keep, the hair was loose from your braid, your tunic was dirty, and you were covered in sweat. When you ran by, I thought you were the most beautiful creature I've ever seen. You think I like seeing you in make-up and dresses? When you wear those awful garments, you look like just another lady. There is so much make-up on your face that I can't even see the real you. But, when you're in your tunic and breaches, and your free of all the things that don't make you Arya... well then I've never seen a more lovelier sight."

Arya tries to respond, but finds the words are stuck at the back of her throat. "So yes Arya," Gendry states more confidently than ever, "I think you're pretty."  
~

The first time he kisses her, they are at the Godswood. His father insisted on a traditional Southern wedding, but Gendry convinced him that he wanted to get married in a Godswood. The maiden clock pools at her feet when he unclamps it and wraps his own around her shoulders. The mighty Stag hangs proudly on her back and she shudders at the fact that she is now a Baratheon.

_Ours is the fury._

Though she is now a Baratheon, she will never stop being a Stark. She looks out at the sea of people, and spies her parents at the front, beside King Robert. Her father wraps an arm around her mother's shoulders as she cries with tears of joy. He gives her a pained smile, when he catches her stare. He knows that she did not want to marry Gendry, he knows that she did not want to marry at all, but her father was never one to refute Robert.

She looks up at her husband then. He looks down at her, a smile gracing his lips. She has no doubts that Gendry had a hand to play in their marriage, and suspects he went to Robert with the proposal himself. She can't find it in her to be mad at him though, and if she had been forced to get married eventually, she could have done a whole lot worse than Gendry.

He bends down to kiss her then, and she feels a pleasant feeling in the pit of her stomach when his lips move against her own. She feels his smile against her lips and she returns with one of her own. She thinks she could be happy then, married to Gendry.

He leads her away from the Godswood then, walking to the Great Hall linked arm in arm. This time when he tells her that she's beautiful, Arya believes him.


	6. Day Six: Calm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from Tumblr anon, "Calm after a fight... or they got stranded indoors during a storm"  
> I was thinking for stranded during a storm before, but I found that it was a little difficult to think of a good idea, so I went with calm after a fight :)

He cannot even begin to describe how he is feeling right now. He wants to say that he is angry, but the word does not seem powerful enough. No, he is furious, seething as he tries to hold back his temper. He can't though, and it doesn't help when his tiny, pint-size girlfriend starts yelling profane things at him. The rage only bubbles, boiling, until his blood runs hot. Perhaps it's the bastard blood in him that makes him act this way, but he cannot help but shout right back at Arya until they are both red in the face. She starts pushing him then, starts punching at his chest as she screams the words _stupid_ and _idiot_ repeatedly.

"What the fuck were you thinking, Gendry!" She yells, "Aegon is my friend and you don't lay a fucking hand on my friends."

"That little prick had more than friendship on his mind," he yells right back. He remembers how the stupid blue-haired punk approached Arya, how is stare lingered a little too long on places that were only meant for his eyes. He withheld himself at first, taking deep calming breaths to avoid any irrational behavior, but then the little prick put his hand on her knee, and suddenly everything went red. "He touched you Arya! No one gets to touch you but me!"

Her eyes narrow then, and if possible she looks even more furious then before. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" She exclaims. "No one gets to touch me, but you? I'm not your fucking property! Only I decide who gets to touch me, and right now I don't want any of your greasy fingers on me!"

Her proclamation hurt him more than she would ever know. He can't show her how much she's hurt him, so he starts yelling even louder. "Of course, I wouldn't want to taint m'lady with my dirty hands, now would I? I'm just a fucking bastard not worthy enough of being in the presence of m'lady high."

She blinks then, and her mouth parts in shock. "That's not what I meant," she states softly, her voice suddenly sounding small. 

"Of course that's what you meant, Arya" he screams. "I see it, Aegon Targaryen fucking sees it, everyone sees it! I'm not worthy enough for you! I don't come from a good family, I'm not rich, I never even finished high school. Stuff like that matters in the real world, you might not see it now, but your family sure does. They hate me, Arya. They don't want you to end up with some twenty-five year old loser, who works as a mechanic, and lives in a shitty apartment. No, they want to see you with someone like Aegon fucking Targareyn, who can buy you anything you want from his family's fucking money, and can give your parents proper and pristine little grandchildren."

He crumbles then, burying his face into his hands as he plummets down into the sofa. He doesn't want her to see him cry, but he cannot choke back the sobs that escape from his lips. "I'm not good enough for you," he repeats, "Aegon can give you everything that I can't."

He feels the couch shift a bit, when she sits beside him. He still can't look at her, and his face remains buried in hands. He can feel her presence though, and her touch when she moves to stroke his back. She lets him sit there for a moment, the silence dissipating all the anger, leaving him feeling the emotions he's been trying to burry all along; sadness, jealousy, helplessness. He doesn't want her to leave him, but someday he is afraid that she is going to finally realise how pathetic he truly is, and leave him for someone more deserving- like Aegon.

"They don't" she states, finally breaking the silent.

He looks up at her then, catching her steely grey gaze. "What?" he asks, bewildered by her statement. 

"My family," she repeats as she bites on her lower lip, "they don't hate you." He looks at her, with utter confusion flashing across his features. He doesn't interrupt her though, so she continues. "Robb and Jon, they like you. I know they sometimes give you a hard time, threatening to chop off your balls or sick Grey Wind and Ghost on you, but they like you. They're just being stupid older brothers, giving a hard time to any guy who sends a second glance my way. But... well they see how happy you make me, and I haven't been happy in a really long time, so yes Gendry, they like you. Sansa is just happy that I'm with someone. She was convinced that I was going to adopt 42 cats and live with them in a cramped, little, studio apartment."

Gendry cannot help but snicker at that, imagining Arya with 42 cats. "Don't laugh" she proclaims, as she sends a playful thwack along his stomach. "Before I met you, I actually considered doing it. I had names and everything! I could have named one Nymeria after the Queen of Rhoynar. I learned about her in history class, she was supposed to be this super bad ass warrior. But, I suppose it wouldn't have worked out, I'm more of a dog person. Bran and Rickon also like you, you know that. You're always so good to them."

Arya smiles, as she shifts closer to him, laying her head in his lap. He can't stop his fingers from weaving themselves in her hair, stroking the brown locks lovingly. "That just leaves mother. I'm not going to lie, she's probably the only person who would rather see me with someone like Edric Dayne, but I don't care. I'm my own person and I'm going to do as I please. Besides," she states, her voice growing soft, "I think father would have liked you. He was the only person who saw me for who I truly was. He let me join sports teams, much to the displeasure of my own mother, and he signed me up for fencing lessons. If he was still alive, I know he would have loved you as much as I do."

His hand stills and he can feel his heart beating harder than ever. "What did you just say?" he asks.

Arya stills then, as she replays her last sentence through her mind. He has told her countless times how much he loves her, but he's never heard the words back. It had bothered him a bit, his heart aching with the possibility that the girl he's given his heart too would never find it in her to love him back. But he's never said anything, from fear of scaring her and pushing her away. But now that he's heard her say it... well he just can't un hear it. He needs the confirmation more desperately than ever.

She gets up from his lap, only to get back on a second later when she moves to straddle him. Her thighs lie outside of his own, and she moves her hands to cradle his face. "I love you," she states with such conviction that he just might burst. "I love you, Gendry. So don't you even think about being stupid again and punching some random guy just because, you think he's making a move on me. Anyone can do or say whatever they want, but in the end it will always be you that I want." He smiles then, his crooked one that Arya loves so much. "Oh and if you ever tell anyone that I just got mushy, I'll sick Ghost and Grey Wind on you, myself."

He swallows her threats with his mouth, kissing her soft pink lips. She eagerly responds, thrusting her tongue inside to lick the roof of his mouth. He carries her back to bed, kneading the soft flesh of her thighs as he lifts her. 

When they have sex this time it is different. There is no urgency, no roughness. Skin does not slap against skin, and they do not scream each other's names. They move together, in tandem, and when they peak it is the best feeling in the world. He realises this is what making love is, they've never done anything else before but fuck.

After they are both spent, she lies down in bed, her eyes already fluttering close from exhaustion. He wraps her arms around her waist, bringing her bare back flush against his chest. He lies there for a moment, watching her sleep as he appreciates the tranquility of this moment. For the first time in a while, he isn't angry, isn't jealous, isn't apprehensive. He knows that she will be there for him, no matter how stupid he acts, he knows that she loves him. 

He lets his eyes close then, appreciating the scent of the girl nested to him. He falls into a long dreamless sleep, still unable to rid himself of the smile that flashes across his face. For the first time, in a long time, he is calm.


	7. Day Seven: Drug

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Took the prompt quite literally

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning, characters are a bit ooc in this chapter, especially Gendry

Gendry wiggles his nose at the foul smell, breathing through his mouth as he dumps out the dirty water. It's probably a mixture of piss, shit, and other increments that he would rather not think about. He hates these fucking children, he just spent hours mopping the hallway and some damn 9th graders decide to muck it up the second after. Yesterday, he spent the entire day scrapping gum off the desks, cursing when he got a fresh wad stuck to his hair. 

The job sucks, but it is good pay. Better than the minimum wage jobs or the stupid construction work he took on. The hours are good too, Monday through Friday from 7am to 6pm, freeing up both his evenings and weekends. But when he gets a page from the head custodian, informing him that a 10th grader puked in his biology class, Gendry begins to question if it's all worth it. 

It feels nice to finally get out of the shit hole, wiping the grease on his pant leg as he heads to his car. He's about to head off when he sniffs the distinct smell of pot not too far off. _Getting high on school property? Man these kids were dumb._ None to his surprise, he finds a bunch of boys by the bleachers. None of them notice him as he approaches, to absorbed in taking another drag from their joints.

"Oi!" Gendry yells, and he smirks to himself when he sees the kids jump, scrambling to hide their stash. It's too late though, Gendry has seen it all. "You boys know marijuana is illegal, not to mention the fact that you boys are underage and smoking on school grounds."

"We-we're sorry mister," one of the boys stutters. He's got long, greasy blonde hair, and Gendry resists the urge to smile when the kid looks like he's going to piss himself. 

"Sorry?" He repeats, in his most authoritative voice. "Do you boys even realise the consequences of your actions? We're talking fines, suspension, _jail time."_ He punctuates the last two words, relishing at the way he makes the kid's blood drain from his face.

"I'll tell you what," Gendry states, as he picks up the bag of weed. "I'll let you guys go, I'll breathe no word of this to the principal, but I am going to confiscate the weed."

"Thank you mister," the blonde boy pipes up, his body still shaking in fear.

Gendry turns to face the kid, bending his knees so they are both at the same eye level, "but if I ever catch you boys with drugs again, I won't be showing you the same kindness, got it?" He asks, and he sees all the boys nod. "Now scram!" He screams, choking back the laughter as he watches the boys quickly scurry away from him.

"Stupid kids," Gendry mutters, as he takes the stash and tosses it in the car. He phones up his pal Yoren, invites him over to his place to get high. 

They smoke all the pot that he confiscated, the stuff is shit but beggars can't be choosers. It's the one thing he likes about this job, how easy the kids are to manipulate. This isn't the first time he's stolen something from the little shit heads, and it won't be the last. If the stupid brats want to use their parents money to buy booze and drugs, and bring them into the school, Gendry will be more than happy to confiscate it. 

There's an insistent pounding in his head, when he mops the floors the next day. His activities from last night were more than pleasant, but it has left him feeling like shit. He doesn't even remember what he did last night, though he's pretty sure it involved drinking, fucking, and smoking pot. 

Just then a rowdy group of teenage boys start running into the school, tracking mud and other debris on the freshly clean floors. Gendry tries yelling at them, but they've already sauntered off. He curses under his breath and rings the head of the mop, and begins cleaning.

The faint smell of nicotine lingers onto the air during the end of his shift. At first he thinks it's just some professor taking a load off from the end of their shift. Gendry resolves to follow the scent, perhaps he can bum one off them, Lord knows he can go for a cigarette right now.

To his surprise he sees a small boy hunched up by the bleachers. He brings the cigarette to his lips, breathing in before slowly exhaling the delightful smell of nicotine into the air. Gendry smirks to himself as he approaches the little boy, free pack of cigarettes sounds pretty good to him.

"Hey kid," he shouts, trying to capture the attention of the boy by the bleachers. 

The kid turns to face him then, and he isn't certainly what Gendry would have expected. Long lashes frame a pair of dark grey eyes. He hasn't seen an eye colour like that before- Grey. Gendry finds himself getting lost in those eyes, and he only breaks away to catch the pattern of freckles on the kid's nose, and then he is admiring how soft and plump his lips look. 

Despite the short hair, and the boyish clothes Gendry can tell that the boy in front of him is no boy at all. No, he is looking at a girl. "What d'ya want?" She snaps, breaking eye contact to take another drag from her cigarette. 

He losses himself for a moment, staring a little too long at those grey eyes that shine like steal, but he quickly recovers, shaking his head to break himself from the trance. "Uh... smoking, that is illegal and..." His tumble out uncomfortably, stuttering when he is usually so confident.

"Chill yourself, yeah? It's just a fag," the girl says, bringing the cigarette to her lips before.

He finds himself staring again, but at her lips this time instead of her eyes. For a brief moment he wonders what it would be like to be that cigarette, so he can touch her soft, pink lips. He is mortified, completely baffled on why such a thought entered his mind. She's just a kid, a little girl. He feels like a complete perv for even thinking twice about the little girl in front of him.

"Yeah but, umm... you're underage, and school property is no smoking, and erm..." _Oh God what the fuck was he saying?_ "I need to confiscate that." He states as he reaches for her pack of cigarettes.

"You taking the piss?" She yells, snatching the pack away from his grasp. "I ain't stupid like the rest of them. You're not the principal, you ain't even a fucking teacher. You're just a fucking janitor, and you have no right on confiscating anything from students. How do you think that's going to go when I tell the principal that you tried to steal my cigarettes. Bet it's not the first time it happened, bet you stole all kind of stuff... Gendry." She states, her eyes quickly flashing to the name tag sewed on his shirt.

He can feel his heart beating erratically. He's been caught, and from a little girl no less. "Look I-"

"No you look," she orders, as she sticks out a finger at him. "You didn't see me, and I didn't see you. Got that clear, janitor?"

He gulps, but he nods, and doesn't say anything when he sees the smile form on her face. 

"Good" she states, as she stubs out her cigarette. "See you later, Gendry."

She sticks true to her word, because the next day he sees her sitting in the same spot, smoking the same pack of cigarettes. Something about this girl screams trouble, and his intuition tells him to stay away, but his feet do not seem to get the memo as they slowly make their way towards her. She smiles at him when he takes a seat beside her, flashing a set of white crooked teeth at him. She wordlessly hands him the pack and he steals a cigarette, borrowing her lighter as he holds the fag in his mouth. He takes a breath, holds, and exhales.

It turns into a routine, every Monday through Friday after six, they sit at the bleachers and smoke a couple of cigarettes. Some days the sit together in silence, others they speak. He finds out her name is Arya, and it shocks him when he tells her that she's a senior. He initially thought the girl was no more than 14, but she claims to be turning 18 next month. 

He tells her about his life too. He doesn't like talking about himself, doesn't like people knowing about his baggage, but it's easy talking to her. He likes talking to her. They finish her pack pretty quick, and she tells him that next time he's buying the cigarettes. Gendry smiles.

Its Friday at 7:00pm. He holds the unopened pack Lucky Strike in his hands, fiddling with the box as he waits for her. He can't explain why it bothers him when he realises that she is not going to show. In these short weeks, Arya Stark has managed to grasp something deep inside him, and he can't find it in himself to shake her off. 

He is about to take off, when he spies the familiar brown bob making her way towards him. "I thought you weren't going to show," he admits as she makes his way towards him.

To his surprise she holds up a little baggie of white powder, and he doubts that she is holding sugar or flour in there. "Didn't feel like cigarettes today," she admits as she gnaws on her lower lip.

He moves to grab the bag from her, but she quickly snatches it back, almost teasingly. "Not here," she states, and he swears he sees a blush crawl its way up to her cheeks. "To yours, yeah?"

They fall into his bed, and he feels the press of her body against his. His arms grasp her hips, pulling her lithe figure against his chest, until he can feel every curve hidden behind her baggy clothes. Their tongues dance, eagerly battling the other as they struggle to take their clothes off. Arya breaks the kiss so she can peel of her layers, and Gendry mirrors her actions.

He knows this is wrong, he knows that she is too young, but he throws caution to the wind when she unclamps her bra, exposing the soft smooth flesh behind it. He plays with her nipples, pinching them until they reach their peak. He does this while grinding his hips against her, relishing when her warm centre rubs against his erection. 

She lets out little mewls as he continues to fondle her. She threads her fingers in his hair and pulls to bring his lips back to hers. He kneads the flesh of her arse, rubbing her faster and rougher against him. He throws his head back and moans, chants her name as he continues to create the friction he so desperately needs.

"Gendry... please..." she begs.

He tries to restrain himself, but he can't find to hold himself off any longer when she chants his name almost like a prayer. He lifts up her hips and guides himself inside her, almost spilling himself too early when he feels her impossibly hot, tight walls grip his cock.

His hips thrust against hers as she rides him. One of his hands reaches up to greedily knead her breast, while the other moves to the place they are joined, rubbing her small little nub in a fast, rough, circular pattern.

She comes with a scream of his names, her tight walls milking his cock to bring him to his own end. The pleasure is all too much and he pulls out, to spill his seed against their stomachs just in time. She falls to his chest then, and her breath moves in sync with his own, as they both struggle to catch their breaths. The small little bag of white powder, lays in the pile of their abandoned clothes, blissfully forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh so I know this wasn't one of my better pieces, and it kind of escalated quickly, but I'm heading off to America next week for vacation and really wanted to finish this as I doubt I'm going to have access to internet for a while.


End file.
